


Trouble Magnet

by Severina



Category: Live Free or Die Hard
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-09
Updated: 2010-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-10 00:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I went in for a bagel, not an armed robbery!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble Magnet

**Author's Note:**

> Established relationship.  
> Written for LJ's smallfandomfest community, for the prompt "trouble magnet". Scenario suggested by ozsaur during an early morning IM chat, and I knew right away I had to write it. :)

"I swear to you, McClane," Matt puffs out. He dodges to the right, crashes into a rack of freshly made donuts and sends crullers and boston cremes flying, staggers and feels like he's going down until John's hand whips out to wrap itself into his T-shirt and haul him upright. A bullet ricochets off one of the metal stands, whizzes past his ear entirely too close for comfort, and John shoves him toward the rear door even as he stops and leans against the counter to return fire. "I swear to you, I just went in for a bagel! Just a bagel!"

He closes his eyes against the return volley, closes his eyes and thanks God that John still goes to the firing range every other week even though he knows Matt kind of hates it, because there's already one man down that he knows of and he's pretty sure the counter girl also took a bullet and oh man, why couldn't he just have stayed home and had a pizza pop?

Then John is there, arm around his shoulders, tugging him up, and they crash through the rear door to the alley, replacing the sickeningly sweet stench of the bakery with car fumes and rotten food and the bitter stink of decay. Matt breathes deeply, and doesn't think he'll ever want a baked good again.

John slams the outer bolt on the door and pushes him toward the dumpster. Matt leans against the grimy metal and tries to get his breath, jumps a little when John slumps beside him.

John side-glances him before scanning the alley. "These aren't a bunch of petty thieves," he says as he checks his clip. "What the fuck do they want?"

Matt blinks, runs a hand through his hair. "What? You're asking me? You're the cop!"

"Listen, kid, they're obviously here for a reason."

"No, you listen," Matt says. "I went in for a bagel, not an armed robbery! Just a bagel. You know, bleached flour, cream cheese? And I gotta tell you, McClane, I think this is the universe confirming what we already know, namely that bagels are bad for you. They're high in calories, they're loaded with saturated fat, they're high in carbs--"

"Get down!" John barks, and Matt is on his knees before he even has time to think, at least a full four seconds before the first of the bullets from the end of the alley slams into the side of the dumpster. His reflexes were never this good before he met John McClane.

"More of them?" he moans. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," John mutters. He slams the clip back into his gun before bending at the waist and duck-walking to the edge of the dumpster, peering carefully around the edge.

And okay, they may be in the middle of a life or death situation here -- _another_ life or death situation, and Matt's pretty much had enough of those to last several lifetimes, thanks very much -- but he's a young hot-blooded male, and well, he's only human. He enjoys the view.

"Nice ass," Matt says.

John glances over his shoulder, eyes wide and incredulous. "_Jesus_, Matt."

"What? I live in the now." He ducks when one of the bullet pings off a trash can. "Okay, that? That was a lot closer. Who are these guys?"

John fires off a couple of return shots, slides down the side of the dumpster to sit beside him on the cold cement. "Fucked if I know," he says. He slants Matt a look. "You been doing any coding I should know about?"

"Ha Ha, McClane. You're a regular laugh riot."

"And you're a trouble magnet."

"Yeah? Well, the one thing I seem to keep attracting is you," Matt points out smugly. He winces at the renewed burst of gunfire from the mouth of the alley, and can't fail to notice that this time when John replaces the clip in his gun, there isn't another spare. "Shit!" he says. "Shouldn't we be hearing, like, sirens by now? Fuck, why didn't I just have a pizza pop? I know, pizza pops aren't healthy either. That's it, no more junk food. I swear it. I know you're always harping on me to eat better, and I swear to God, McClane, if we get through this I'll…" Matt pauses, cocks his head. "Do you hear that?"

"I can't hear a fucking thing over you yapping. Jesus Christ, Matt, you're giving me a headache!"

"Yeah, like it's _me_ giving you a headache. The gun-wielding thugs have nothing to do with it," Matt mutters. He shakes his head and pulls himself to his feet, shuffles to the edge of the dumpster. "I think--"

"Keep your head down, goddamnit!"

"I see it!" Matt crows triumphantly. He glances over his shoulder. "McClane, cover me."

"Cover you? Get your fucking ass back-- MATT!"

Matt hears John curse behind him as he darts into the alley, then a burst of gunfire as John follows instructions and lays down some cover. His foot slides in the thick sludge of decomposing food that litters the cement, and for a moment he spirals out of control, arms pin-wheeling, and has a moment to think that maybe this wasn't the best idea he's ever had before he finally regains his balance. He crashes into the trash can, bends at the waist to scoop up his prize, and scuttles back to the dumpster in a hail of gunfire.

"Got it!" he says proudly. He wipes a piece of soiled lettuce off his hand with a grimace, then grins as the barrage of gunfire stutters to a halt with the approach of sirens.

John stares at the dirty orange and white bundle snuggled in his arms, raises his head slowly to ensure that Matt gets the full effect of the laser stare. "A kitten," he says.

Matt's been living with McClane for over a year. The laser stare isn't nearly as effective as it used to be. "I could hear it mewling," Matt smiles. "Look how small it is! I think it's been abandoned."

"You risked your life," John says slowly, "for a kitten."

"I wouldn't go that far," Matt says. "I knew you'd lay out the covering fire, and the trash can was really pretty close, and… McClane!" Matt rolls his eyes as John shakes his head and steps out from behind the dumpster, detective shield in hand, and calls out to identify himself to the advancing officers.

He grins down at the undersized bundle of fur, scratches one finger behind a tiny ear before stepping out to stand next to McClane.

"So John," he says, ignoring the way John subtly turns his body away, equally ignoring the way John swipes a hand over his head in his patented 'I don't know what to do with you' gesture of annoyance. A groan will probably come next, and Matt will ignore that too. When he sets his mind on something, he usually gets it. McClane of all people should know that by now, since the last thing he set his mind on was McClane himself.

"What do you want to name her? John, what do you want to name… John? John!" He looks from McClane's retreating back to the kitten in his arms. "He'll come around," he tells her.

The kitten meows softly in agreement.


End file.
